


It's A Trap

by totalconfushun



Series: Micki Moments [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalconfushun/pseuds/totalconfushun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A female bounty hunter is on Deanmon's trail, but gets caught in her own trap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's A Trap

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a member of a writer's group elsewhere and this was my entry in a short story contest. The parameters were simply sex in an inappropriate place. I decided that sex with a demon in a demon trap was about as inappropriate as it gets.

Deep down…way down, there was a burning ember he couldn't put out, no matter how hard he tried.  And, God, how he’d tried!  It was as persistent as … well, as he always had been.

 It was that spark of humanity - what was left of the old Dean.

  _Yeah, I’m still here, asshat._

Logically, he knew there was no separate entity inside his body with him.  He was not a demon possessing a meat suit.  This was what he had become, and he was extremely happy with the outcome.

 He was a demon on the loose in Vegas, baby!

  _What happens in Vegas does NOT stay in Vegas._

He shrugged off Sparky.  Shit, the King of Hell was his co-pilot.  Things didn’t get much better – or more bad-ass than that.

 The lights of the casino were reflected in Baby’s windshield, and that wasn’t all.  He pulled out his cell and quickly dialed Crowley’s number.  He really needed to put him on speed dial.

 “’Ello, Squirrel,” Crowley’s clipped British accent came on the line.

 “Shut up, I’m talking,” Dean growled.  “I’m gonna be late.”

 “Late?” Crowley sounded confused.  “Squirrel, I’m slightly indisposed at the moment.”  Let Dean think he was with a woman.  Truth was he was having trouble keeping up with Demon Dean.

 “I’ve got something stuck on my shoe,” Dean replied, his growl still in place.

 “What?”

 “Never mind,” Dean said harshly.  He had to keep reminding himself that Crowley was NOT Sammy and their code phrases just didn’t work.  He disconnected the call.

 He’d handle his tail by himself.  Besides, it wasn’t as if he needed help.  He had way more than just demon juice in his tank; one hunter couldn’t be too much of a problem.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Micki frowned.  She was pretty sure she’d been made.  Kicking herself was certainly an option, she should’ve been more careful.  This  _was_ a Winchester.  “Good one, Michelle,” she said softly.  Just like a pissed off mom, she only called herself Michelle when she fucked up royally.  And, she’d been doing that a lot lately.

 Good thing she’d had a fix earlier – it might be needed now.

 Going after a Winchester, well, that wasn’t a bounty just anyone would try to collect, but her talents allowed her a certain amount of arrogance.  She grinned as she ducked in the next casino, hoping to escape Dean’s notice.  Yeah, she was a bit cocky. But she had every reason to be.  She’d never lost a bounty.

 And, she didn’t intend to start now.

 It had been easier than expected to find Dean in Vegas, but then he wasn’t exactly keeping a low profile.  He was on a mission to make Charlie Sheen look like a candidate for sainthood – and he was  _winning_.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dean weaved through the people coming and going, trying to keep the hunter in his sights, but staying far enough back she wouldn’t realize she was being followed.

  _She’s hot._

This time he had to agree with Sparky.  Her long, dark blond hair was worn in a tight French braid.  The tip of said braid swayed just above one of the finest asses he’d ever seen.  She was considerably shorter than he normally liked, but she’d do in a pinch.  He’d noticed earlier she wasn’t quite as stacked as was his norm, but a nice hand full would certainly work when ya had an ass like that.  She had such delicate features, a dainty nose, sharp sculpted cheek bones, full pouty lips, and a tiny little chin.

 She really was a tiny little thing; in fact he was having trouble seeing her through the crowd.  He zigged past an elderly woman cleaning up her winnings out of a slot machine, and zagged past a group of ladies obviously celebrating a divorce.  He casually tossed a flirty smile and a wink over his shoulder at the one that grabbed his ass as he passed.  If he had more time…

 What?  Where the fuck had the little hunter gone?  There wasn’t an exit anywhere close, but she was just gone.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Patting herself on the back, Micki moved quickly down the alley between two casinos.  She’d lost a Winchester!  She was pretty proud of herself, but who would ever believe her?

 The rush of air was her only warning before an arm snaked around her shoulders from behind.  She was pulled back against a hard male frame.  Even if she hadn’t sensed what he was, the one word, “Abomination” hissed in her ear would’ve told her all she needed to know.

 Silently, her angel sword slid out of the left sleeve of her denim jacket.  She palmed the hilt, even as she shifted her weight and pulled the angel over her shoulder with her right arm.

 Green eyes flared to white in the darkness as she glared at the handsome man on the ground.  She had no idea why every angel she’d ever encountered considered her an ‘abomination’ and tried to kill her, but she wouldn’t hesitate to defend herself.  She never had.

 Quickly, she dove for the stranger.  He rolled away, and she turned at the last second and executed a nice barrel roll herself, coming to land once again on her feet.  The angel had rolled then jumped to his feet only to come charging at her.  Unprepared for her to land on her feet, his charge brought him too quickly into arm’s reach.  Without hesitation, she stabbed him in the heart.  With his dying breath, his grace escaped his parted lips, and Micki opened her mouth and took it in – damn, that felt good! 

 He slid to the ground, and Micki kicked his shoulder.  “Sticks and stones, asshat.  Sticks and stones,” she mumbled as she fell against the brick wall on her right.  This grace, coming so fast on the heels of her last fix caused a huge rush of adrenaline, she was punch drunk from the kill and her own addiction.

 Fuck!  That one packed a wallop.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Just a short twenty-four hours later, Micki was ready for Dean to follow her.  So, when she saw him exit his hotel, she made sure he noticed her watching for him.  Then, she took off at a fast jog, not fast enough to lose him, but fast enough to keep him from catching her.

 Slowing her pace slightly, Micki looked back over her shoulder to make sure Dean was still there.  He had to slow down for a large group exiting a hotel together, but she noticed his burning gaze never left her.  She shivered in the hot Nevada sun, and slowed her step even more. 

 She’d always considered Dean the better looking of the two gorgeous brothers, but now that the demon darkness had taken over there was just something sinfully delicious about him now.  When she’d heard about the bounty Sam had put out on his brother, she’d been intrigued.  No surprise, the terms demanded Dean be taken alive.  It was only after she’d agreed to take the gig that Sam, at Castiel’s urging, had reluctantly admitted that Dean was now a demon.

 Castiel had told Sam it was only fair that she know what she was up against.  Sam and the angel intended to try and save Dean.  That’s why once she had him she was supposed to pray to Castiel and they would come.  Shrugging off these thoughts, she concentrated on where she was and keeping just ahead of the demon on her heels.

 After making one more turn, she came to the door she’d been looking for.  It was the back stage door of a club that was currently closed for remodeling, or so the sign said.  She paused before entering the door, just long enough to give Dean a chance to see which door she entered.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dean grinned devilishly.  Did she really believe he didn’t know what she was up to?  He wasn’t sure why she wanted him to follow her, but he was definitely on to her.

  _She’s a hunter, ya douche.  She wants to trap you._

For once, Sparky made him smile.  Was he finally deciding to get with the program?

 Stopping the door from slamming closed, Dean smiled in the darkness, demon x-ray vision came in handy.  Her eyes probably had to adjust to the lack of light.  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and jerked his head to the right.  There.  Up ahead, she was moving quickly and with quiet grace.  He followed her right up to the wings of the stage.   

 Whoa.  Was this a strip club?

  _Metal pole in the center of the stage is pretty much a dead giveaway, asshat._

He mentally told Sparky to fuck off.   He watched as she crossed the stage and disappeared into the wings on the other side.  He started across the stage, but when he reached the pole he couldn’t go any farther.  He was stuck.

 “Son of a bitch!” he growled.

 He heard a click and a black light came on, illuminating the devil’s trap she’d painted on the stage.  Looking up, he saw one painted on the ceiling as well.  “Not taking any chances, I see.”

 “Not with a Winchester and the mark of Cain,” her husky voice came out of the darkness.

 “Who are you…What are you?” he demanded.  He’d sensed something different about her, but he was too new at this demon shit to know what he was sensing.

 He still couldn’t see her, but her whiskey voice came at him from the dark.  “The name’s Micki, and I’m a bounty hunter.”

 “Well, damn, darlin’.  If you wanted me tied up, all ya had to do was ask,” he told her, flashing a boyish grin and throwing a wink in for good measure.  He was willing to use whatever it took to get out of this trap.  There was no doubt in his mind who’d put a bounty on him that had set this little pretty on his ass.

 She stepped out on the stage then.  He could see something metal glinting in her hand.  What the fuck?  Was that handcuffs swinging on her finger?

 “Well, now that you mention it,” she said with a sweet little grin.

 Was she flirting with  _him_?  This was gonna be so fucking easy.  “Well, c’mon over here, baby.  Let’s get this show on the road.”

 Micki smiled.  If it had a dick, it could be led around by it.  Sad thing was though; she was turned on by him helpless and at her mercy.  He really was beautiful… maybe not so helpless though.

 “I said, c’mere, baby,” he growled softly.

 Later, she would kick herself for giving in, but right now his voice full of velvet and gravel, lust and sin affected her like a siren’s call, and she took the few steps that put her in the trap with him.

 He grinned wickedly.  “So, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

 She grinned back at him and raised one eyebrow.  “Yeah, I might be stupid enough to want to let you do wicked and delightfully sinful things to me – with me, but I’m not stupid enough to let you go.”

 “We’ll see, baby.  We’ll see,” he told her softly, then jerked her swiftly into his arms.

 The kiss was hot, molten lava that burned her all the way to her toes.  How was she not a puddle?  His left arm was like an iron band across the small of her back pulling her tightly against him.  As his mouth continued to pummel hers, he began to move forward, forcing her to take steps backward.  All the while his lips never left hers, his tongue continuing its persistent exploration of her mouth.

 The fingers of her left hand threaded their way through his hair, but her right hand was at his waist, sliding under the hem of his shirt to find the warm skin underneath.  That’s what she needed… skin. 

 And more of it.

 Faster than Danica Patrick, he grabbed her right wrist, and before she could even react, she felt the cold metal of the handcuffs.  She tried to pull her arm back, but came up short.  The clank of metal on metal told her she’d been Winchestered.  Fuck!

 She threw a flirty grin and his own words back at him.  “So, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

 Chuckling, he shook his head.  She really was something.  “Oh, I’m still gonna have my wicked way with you, but…”

 “Promises, promises.  Will you just get on with it?” she interrupted.

 A short bark of laughter, then he was pulling her back into his arms.  His hot mouth came down on hers in a hard kiss, his tongue invading her mouth again.  When it retreated, hers followed.  He tasted of mint and beer.

 Her fingers were greedily working at the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped her.  When she started to protest, he pulled the still buttoned shirt off over his head.  She took it from him and tossed it outside the trap, and before she could blink he’d removed her shirt as well.  With his hands on her waist, he picked her up so that he had easier access to her breasts; the handcuffs clinked softly against the metal pole as they slid upward.  He bit her teasingly, with just enough force to satisfy the demon, but not hard enough to make Sparky object.

 Setting her back down, he ordered harshly, “Lose the jeans.”

 She shimmied out of her jeans quickly, while his eyes seared her skin.  The denim had barely hit the floor, when he spun her around and slapped her ass… hard.

 “This is one of the finest asses I’ve seen…ever,” he whispered in her ear, as he moved in, crowding her against the pole.  One hand coasted down her side to her hip, and she could feel his other one between them working to release the button and zipper of his jeans.

 “Hold on, baby,” he encouraged hoarsely, “this is gonna be a rough ride.”

 She gripped the pole with both hands even as he positioned her the way he wanted her.  He moved her feet back from the pole and with one big hand in the middle of her back pushed her forward so that she was bent at the waist.  With one of his feet, he nudged her feet farther apart.

 She groaned in anticipation.

 He just stood there for a second enjoying the view. 

  _Damn, that is one fine ass._

“No lie, Sparky,” he breathed in agreement, as one hand once again gripped her hip.

 “Wha… God,” she gasped as he slammed into her from behind, his big hand still in the middle of her back.

 “Not quite, baby.  Think farther south,” he teased, as his hips surged forward.

 Micki couldn’t think about anything except the movement of those hips and the dick filing her.  Jesus, was she gonna survive this?  If not, what a way to go.  She gripped the pole tighter with both hands, the metal cool on her cheek as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth.  She pushed back meeting each of his thrusts with wild abandon.  She whimpered softly; she was so close.

 “Not yet,” he demanded.  “Wait.”  He pulled out so that just the tip teased her, then without warning he drove forward, slamming into her again.

 “Oh, God,” she breathed.

 “You can… call me… Dean,” he told her, his grin all too cocky.

 He could feel her squeezing him, and he groaned.  “Wait.”

 “Fuck you,” she growled, slamming back to meet his thrust.  “I can go twice… if you’re good enough.”

 Damn, he really liked her.  He began to move faster, and gripped her hip tighter.  Damn, she felt good. 

 Micki knew she’d have bruises later, but didn’t really care.  Her orgasm started as a tingle in her toes and rolled up her body in waves.  She flung her head up as she slammed back into Dean.  His hand on her back kept her bent over as he drove into her over and over.  “Damn,” she gasped, trying to get some much needed air into her lungs.

 Just as she was coming down from her first orgasm, Dean slapped her ass harder than the first time.  “Let’s do that again,” he growled, bending over her to grip the pole several inches above her head, and started the drive again. 

 The hand at her hip moved up to knead one firm breast.  She moaned softly, and he was inspired.  He pinched her nipple hard, and she screamed as she exploded again with him right behind her.

 “Well, looks like I have impeccable timing, as usual,” Crowley’s voice filled the room.

 “Shit,” she hissed sharply.

 Without any embarrassment whatsoever, Dean stepped away from her and was casually tucking in and zipping up.  “A little help here?” he asked the other demon.

 “You need me to spell you with the pretty?” Crowley asked with a grin.

 Dean looked over his shoulder at the pretty thing still handcuffed to the pole.  “You know I don’t like to share.”

 Crowley shrugged casually, as he strolled forward.  “Her loss.”

 “Just the trap, asshat.”

 Suddenly, the floor beneath her feet began to shake and rumble, then a crack appeared in the trap as the wood warped.

 “It was fun…Mike, right?” he teased, slapping her ass again, before jumping down off the stage.  He picked up his shirt on the way to the door.

 Micki ground her teeth together as she watched Dean walk out the door with the King of Hell.  “Son of a bitch!”

 Dean heard her all the way outside and laughed softly.  He really liked her.

 “Who was that?” Crowley asked, grinning.

 “Just a bounty hunter Sam put on my ass.”

 “Oh, Squirrel, she’s so much more than that.”

 

                                                                 The End….for now.


End file.
